


Warmth

by Rose_Lattes



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor is flustered, It's like the 'cuddle for warmth' but opposite, Kinda, Post-Canon, Reader is warm, Robot/Human Relationships, Spoilers for game, Stuff moves quickly, Yall are supposed to be working lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 15:04:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14876033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_Lattes/pseuds/Rose_Lattes
Summary: You and Connor have been working together for three months but never really made time for each other. Lucky for you, it only takes one evening for you to completely unravel him.





	Warmth

You enter the empty apartment, carrying a heavy backpack on your shoulder. Your muscles strain under the weight, and you briefly wonder why the android couldn’t have carried it. Connor stands next to the semi-cracked window, his gaze pierced the horizon in deep analysis. You drop the backpack, the bag fell to the floor with a thunderous noise. You cringe, hoping the entire building didn’t hear. “Oops,” you mutter.

You join Connor by the window. Run down factories and decrepit houses litter the horizon, but you focus on one particular hotel room adjacent to you. The lights are on and the curtains open but no one is in sight. You lean forward, squinting through the sunset’s rays but you can’t make out any more details. You nudge the android at your side with your elbow. He stirs, thrown off by the invasive action. “What do you see?” you ask.

“There is a gun on the bedside table, along with a packet of red ice,” he pauses, and you turn to him, his lips thinned in mild frustration, “although Barker’s belongings are still in the room, there is no telling when he will return.”

You release a heavy sigh and lean back on your heels. “Well, better bunker down. We might have a long night ahead of us.” You ran a hand through your hair, tousling the strands.

Connor watches the movement with mild curiosity. Although he has been working with you for the last three months, you two never spent a lot of time together. After Hank’s retirement, he had invested himself only in his work. You didn’t seem to mind his coldness, he thought. Perhaps you didn’t even notice. He looks back to the hotel room. “You’re right.”

“Good thing I came prepared,” you say. A small smile graces your lips as you bend down to unpack your bag. You retrieve a blanket and begin to shake it out. Conner takes a step back as you narrowly miss his face. You lay the blanket down next to the window, covering the wooden floor with the red fabric. Without a glance in the androids direction, you plop down onto the floor and begin to sift through your bag once more.

Connor cocks his head. “What are you doing?”

You pause and look up to him, your eyes wide, startled by his tone. “I’m getting comfortable,” you say as if it was obvious. He stands a few feet away from the edge of the blanket, his posture as straight as can be. You lean over and pat the fabric, “you’re more than welcome to join.” Your voice was friendly, but you noticed Connor’s hesitation as he once again returned his gaze to the window. “Hey, you said it yourself, ‘there is no telling when he will return.’” You mock his voice playfully.

He swivels to meet your gaze; his eyes lit with mild humor. “I don’t sound like that.” He evaluates your face as you hide your laughter. Despite the jest, he moves to the blanket, choosing to sit close to the window. He watches as you rummage through your backpack.

You pull out a few bottles of water, your phone, and a Rubik’s Cube. You run your fingers along the cube. The faded stickers look at you like an old friend. You smile before you start twisting the rows, the colors quickly mixing. You feel his eyes trace your every move, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t unnerve you.

“What is that?” he asks. He knows what it is, an old puzzle that humans enjoyed, but he is more curious as to why you have one, manufacturers stopped selling them years ago in favor of more high-tech hand puzzles.

“A Rubik’s Cube,” your face is relaxed as you evaluated the puzzle before you. “I’ve had this since childhood. It’s a good way to pass the time,” you shrug, “plus it calms my nerves.”

“Are you nervous?” Connor asks. Your movements still and a faint blush masks your cheeks. It was a genuine question, but he wondered if he should have phrased it differently.

“Ah-” you start. You shouldn’t have said the last part. “Not really, I’ve participated in a stakeout before.” You know what you are doing when it comes to your job at least. You look to your partner; the sunset casts the room in a warm orange glow, his brown hair looks auburn. Your heart thrums against your chest, and you look away.

He cocks his head as he watches you return to your puzzle. You two sit in silence for a few minutes. Even after spending so much time with humans, Connor still struggles with small talk. Instead, he silently calculates how many moves it would take to finish the cube.

You don’t mind the silence, but you do mind the heat. It is a rather humid day, and the moisture in the air coupled with the blistering summer hotness was enough to gloss your skin with a mild sweat. You tugged at the collar of your shirt, discomfort clawing at your spine. After a few moments, you get up. You grab your backpack. “I’m going to go get changed,” you say. Before Connor can question you, you disappear into the bathroom.

You change into a pair of shorts and a tank top. Just freeing your legs from your bulky work pants cools you down immensely. You enter the room to find Connor holding your Rubik’s Cube. “You solved it,” you say, your voice light, filled with mirth.

His head rose, a smirk graced his face but faltered slightly as he took you in. He had never seen you out of uniform, and for some reason, the change in attire peaked his interest. He knew it was off-putting to stare, so he tore his eyes away from your figure and back to the finished puzzle. “Yes, I hope you don’t mind. You were close to solving it.”

You sit back down, stretching your legs out in front of you. “Any news about Barker?” you ask as you lean toward Connor and take the puzzle from him. You don’t touch him, but he feels the heat radiate from your skin. The sensation sends his thoughts whirling. For the first time in a while, he has to actively reel his thoughts back. His eyes dart from you to the window.

“No, he hasn’t returned to his room,” he says, his voice softer than you’ve heard it before. You glance at him, confused by his change in posture. You fiddle with the colorful cube, mixing the rows in a random order. You try to hand the puzzle back to the android, but he isn’t facing you. You nudge his arm with the back of your hand, his back straightens as he flinches. Your eyes widen as you note his LED, the yellow ring blinks at you. You offer him the puzzle.

He looks down and takes it from you, careful as to not touch you. He quickly solves it, thankful for the distraction. “11 moves? How?” you ask as you lean against one hand, head inclined in his direction. He’s not sure if you actually want an answer or if it is rhetorical, he chooses not to answer you. Instead, he stands up.

You crane your head as you watch his figure. He turns to the window and quickly falls into an analytical gaze. You purse your lips and let him do his thing. You knew Connor was different, heard the story of his role in the uprising. But you didn’t quite expect him to be so, human. You shook your head, you knew you sounded ignorant, but after spending so much time around regular androids, the difference was jarring.

When you initially met Connor, you were starstruck; he was the android that swayed the revolution. But you quickly got used to his playful smirk and logical attitude and soon forgot about his deviancy. You two worked well together, your strong suit being communication while his analytical, you were like a duo from the cop shows your father always watched. You got into a steady schedule, you two worked together, but you never bothered trying to pry into his life. You wanted to give him space. You cock your head as you watch the android, you can’t shake the feeling that you have been underestimating him.

After several quiet minutes, Connor turns back to you, confident that his mind is in order. The sun, set deeply beneath the horizon, offers the sky little light and in turn, the room darkens. He doesn’t move to flick the light-switch, you both know your position would be compromised if you illuminated the room. Street lights cast a mild glow through the window.

Despite the darkness, you are warm, uncomfortably so. You shift, crossing your legs and retrieve a bottle of water. You drink, hoping the fluid will cool you down. Connor watches as your throat pulses as you consume the beverage. “Are you okay?” His voice is harsher than he intends it to be.

You jolt, unaware that he is looking at you. You finish your drink and search for him in the darkened room. His LED helps you find him, but his face is unreadable. “Yeah, just a little warm.” It is an understatement, and you know he can tell. You stand up and stretch, your muscles stiff from sitting for so long. “You aren’t uncomfortable, are you?” you ask.

Connor squints in confusion. Judging by your playful tone, you know the answer. He decides to humor you anyways. “I can easily modulate my body temperature.”

You shift on your feet. “What’s your temperature now?” you ask, curiosity masking your features.

He takes a moment to read his vitals. “78 degrees,” he says.

A small laugh escapes you, and you walk to the window, you lean against the frame and watch the quiet street below. “Oh, how amazing androids are,” you say, a tad too dramatically then you mean to.

Connor pivots, joining you next to the window. In your peripheral you see his attentive gaze locked onto you. He waits for you to continue. “You really are the perfect creation aren’t you?” You look at him with a gentle smile and a charming smirk creeps across his face. A deep blush settles across your cheeks, heating you up to a blistering temperature, your face feels as if it is going to melt off. You didn’t mean to say it that way. You shake your head and look away. “Ah, I mean…” you trail off in a fruitless attempt to find your words. Because you said it right the first time, he is perfect, he was designed to be perfect. 

Something stirs within Connor as he watches your body temperature rise. Without taking a moment to think about his actions, he embraces you from behind, his firm arms wrap around your torso.

You inhale sharply and freeze. “What are you doing?” Your voice is breathy. You aren’t hostile, just shocked. Despite the blush expanding across your body, you feel cooler pressed against the android. You watch his reflection in the window. His yellow LED blinks rapidly.

“Your temperature is rising, any higher and you risk damage to your health,” he says. He attempts to ignore the warmth of your skin, how he can feel your heated body through his thin shirt, but try as he will, he can’t ignore it. His mind races, infiltrated with your scent, your voice, your body. He closes his eyes and tries to regain control over himself.

A smile dances across your lips. “Thank you, Connor.” You don’t move, afraid of disturbing the embrace. Cautiously, you bring your hand up to your stomach; you rest your hand on his. His skin is soft, and you briefly wonder if the rest of his body is made out of the same material. You close your eyes and enjoy the peaceful moment. But as quickly as he came, he went.

He pulls away from you, and you catch yourself before you lose balance. “You have returned to an appropriate temperature,” he says. He sounds detached, and you turn around. Despite how ‘android’ his words sounded, his face never looked more human. His heavy-lidded eyes pierce you where you stand. His lips part and his tongue darts out to moisten them in one of the most human expressions you’ve seen on him.

“Connor?” your voice is gentle, but it reaches him like a wave. He should have turned around, distanced himself from you, but he was weak. Weak to your wide eyes and easy personality, weak to your warm body and delicate skin. He does not know where this feeling came from, all he knows is that you managed to unravel him in the span of only an evening. He strides toward you, once again closing the distance between the two of you but this time he meets your lips.

You reflexively close your eyes. His hands grip your bare shoulders. His lips are smooth, but not unnervingly so. You kiss back, your fingers find his waist, and you pinch the fabric of his shirt. His left-hand travels from your shoulder to your neck, and then to the back of your head. His strong fingers bury themselves in your hair. He deepens the kiss, and you open your mouth to reciprocate his passion. You shift your feet and accidentally step on the toes of his shoes. You are about to break away and apologize, but you feel his lips turn up in a sly smirk. You find yourself smiling in return.

His right-hand trails down your shoulder, it follows the curve of your waist and finds your hip. You take a step back as you move your hands to the collar of his shirt. You hope he reads the situation correctly. Of course he does. He follows your movement with his own, and you are quickly pinned against the window. The cool glass meets your back, and you arch away from the frigid wall. As your chest becomes flush with his, you feel his thumb touch the skin between your tank top and shorts. His hands move again but before they can reach their intended destination, a sharp noise jars both of you into stillness.

You meet Connor’s face with wide eyes. From its spot on the blanket, your work phone rings, the screen illuminating the dark room. Your lips turn up into a pathetic smile. Connor moves away from you, his LED blinks rapidly, struggling to keep up with his antics. He watches as you stride toward your phone. He runs his hand down his jeans, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles. He acted on impulse, but as you meet his eyes with a smile, your phone pressed close to your ear, he realizes it wasn’t such a bad thing.

You hang up your phone and begin to pack up your belongings. “Barkers been spotted downtown, we’ve been called to assist with the arrest,” you say as you stand back up. Your thighs shake from your pre-extinguished excitement. You look at Connor and nod toward the door. “Let’s go.”

He takes in your form, bows his head, and starts toward the door. You swing your backpack over your shoulder. “You gonna be okay?” you ask with a teasing grin.

He meets your eyes and slowly evaluates your disheveled appearance, you can feel the blush return to your face. A smile lights his features up in the most charming way. “The better question is; will you?”


End file.
